


Boomerang

by enjayas



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A bit heavy, Blow by Blow, Cuckolding, Established Relationship, Lance gets cucked, Lance's POV, Langst, M/M, One Shot, SHEITH - Freeform, Voltron Kink Bang, Voyeurism, cuckold, if you can't feel the love at the end then I don't know what to tell you..., klance, ntr, psychological sadomasochism, shklance - Freeform, three way kind of, too real
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-17
Updated: 2018-05-17
Packaged: 2019-04-25 14:58:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14381076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enjayas/pseuds/enjayas
Summary: “Watching Keith have sex with another man...” He wet his lips and huffed a laugh at his own expense. It was always an awkward thing to explain. “Well, it sorta makes me realize how much better I could be at it.” He offered a wry smile. “It’s pretty humiliating if I’m being honest… But the thing is… Ah- This is kinda hard to admit, but... I kinda get off on it. I get off on seeing him with someonebetterthan me.” His eyes lit up and he grinned almost goofily. “Better than me in every way. Someone taller, stronger, smarter…Bigger.” He flicked his eyebrows with the last one.“So I asked my boyfriend to fuck Shiro, this guy I’ve looked up to forever. A guy I could never be. A man that can make Keith’s body sing in ways I could never...” His face pained. “And it kills me to see it. It kills me every time...” Lance’s voice cracked and his hands balled into fists. He shut his eyes and bowed his head, taking a moment to regain his composure. “But I would watch them again and again and again…” A fire blazed behind his pupils as he lifted his chin and a confidence squared his shoulders. “Because it is just…” He looked to the ceiling, struggling to find the right words. “Thebestdamn thing.”





	1. Outside the Door

**Author's Note:**

> A cuckold is a person who takes pleasure in watching their lover or partner engage in sexual activity with somebody else, usually someone they feel is superior to themselves. This fic delves into some rather heavy psychological kinks. Even if you are over the age of 18, **please use discretion.**
> 
> So welcome to **_Boomerang_** , aka **The Voltron Cuckolding Fic Literally Nobody Asked For** and my **Voltron Kink Bang** fic! This is probably the most polished piece of writing I've ever put out. Really felt myself level up as a writer while working on it!
> 
> Everyone is aged up. Keith and Lance are in their late 20s and Shiro is in his early 30s. This work is _not necessarily_ related to my other klance fics, but you may find some similarities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Find me on Twitter @enjayas_writes or Tumblr @enjayas and please check out the art at the end of the fic!

  


_Boomerang (noun): An object that when thrown, returns to the thrower._

  


__

_Boomerang (verb): To cause harm to the originator, having the potential to backfire._

  


  


  


Lance sat wedged between the cushions of an overly plush couch in a room adorned with tranquil colors and inoffensive textures. Serene images of nature that were no doubt meant to inspire a sense of safety and encourage openness cluttered the walls. Typical therapy stuff was his assessment of Dr. Pollux’s office. The tactic, however, had proven effective because by the tail-end of Lance’s session they’d drifted to a topic he’d meant to keep private, even from his therapist. Though mildly miffed with himself, Lance still smirked, knowing he’d just dropped a bombshell.

Dr. Pollux hid her surprise well, but the way her eyelids peeled back exposing the full curvature of her irises gave her away. She delicately touched her thick-rimmed glasses and shifted in her chair as she reset the clipboard resting atop her tweed skirt. If the silence had lasted a beat longer, Lance would have thought her unprofessional.

“And you’ve- you've already done this?” She asked.

“Maybe…” Lance’s eyes darted to the side mischievously. The expectant pause that followed told him she already knew he had. “Yeah,” he admitted, hesitantly bringing his eyes to her again. “Just once- Quite a few times,” he corrected.

“I see.” Dr. Pollux tapped her pen against her clipboard, a pensiveness creasing her brow. “It’s just, you’ve never mentioned- Well, we’ve not talked about anything like this before. It’s an awfully big decision.” Pen and clipboard poised for note-taking, she looked at him curiously. “Why don’t you tell me a little bit more. About what it does for you…” 

Lance released a long breath at the lead-in and let his eyes wander around the room, trying to figure out where to begin. His gaze settled on a faded stain marring the otherwise immaculate carpet.

“Watching Keith have sex with another man...” He wet his lips and huffed a laugh at his own expense. It was always an awkward thing to explain. “Well, it sorta makes me realize how much better I could be at it.” He offered a wry smile. “It’s pretty humiliating if I’m being honest… But the thing is… Ah- This is kinda hard to admit, but... I kinda get off on it. I get off on seeing him with someone _better_ than me.” His eyes lit up and he grinned almost goofily. “Better than me in every way. Someone taller, stronger, smarter… _Bigger._ ” He flicked his eyebrows with the last one. 

“So I asked my boyfriend to fuck Shiro, this guy I’ve looked up to forever. A guy I could never be. A man that can make Keith’s body sing in ways I could never...” His face pained. “And it kills me to see it. It kills me every time...” Lance’s voice cracked and his hands balled into fists. He shut his eyes and bowed his head, taking a moment to regain his composure. “But I would watch them again and again and again…” A fire blazed behind his pupils as he lifted his chin and a confidence squared his shoulders. “Because it is just…” He looked to the ceiling, struggling to find the right words. “The _best_ damn thing.”

His clear blue eyes were tuned to his therapist. For once there wasn’t a trace of bullshit in his answer. His confidence faltered though. It always made him nervous when she let him talk like that without any response or interjection. He never could tell if he was digging himself deeper in a hole.

The psychologist on the other side of the room finished scratching a note on her clipboard.

“This Shiro…” She asked with no other reaction than matter-of-factness as she flipped through her notes. Lance hid an eyeroll. Her level of professionalism was irksome at times. “The same Shiro we’ve talked about before? The one you and Keith nearly broke up over?”

Lance swallowed the lump rising in his throat. 

“The very same.”

“And you recall that period of time? I believe you referred to it as ‘ _repeatedly hitting rock-bottom through a series of endless trap doors_ ’?” She read off an old page. “Losing Keith was ‘ _a cataclysmic upheaval of everything you knew and held dear_ ’?”

“I remember,” Lance said quietly, wishing he had the excuse of being dramatic. He brought his gaze to the thumbs twiddling in his lap. “It sucked.” 

Frown lines appeared on Dr. Pollux’s forehead. Lance could see her struggling to decide which thread to chase as their minutes together diminished. 

She took a different route than any he expected.

“Lance,” she began then set her clipboard and notes aside. Crossing her legs, she interlaced her fingers around her knee and cast him a friendly smile. “You’ve been seeing me for months. So why did you avoid bringing this up until now?”

She paused giving him time to answer. He didn't.

“Shame? Fear of judgement? Self-sabotage?” She offered.

“Nah. It’s not any of that.” Lance waved a hand dismissively. “The thing is, doc…” He fidgeted before telling her the real reason. “I kinda knew you’d tell me not to go through with it.” He cracked a cocky half-smile.

“Lance, you know I’m not here to tell you what you should and shouldn’t-”

“Strongly advise against then.”

Dr. Pollux’s lips pressed into a thin line and a standoffish silence followed.

“Well? Are you gonna tell me I shouldn’t? That I’m undoing all our work? That I’m reliving past traumas or whatever?” Lance taunted one shade above petulance.

“I don’t know, Lance. Is that what you want me to tell you?” She shot back with a mildly adversarial smile. 

Lance grinned back. She was good.

“Touché, doc. Touché.” He held her gaze, admiring her for her wit. The woman was smart as a whip, wise well beyond her years, and could sniff out bullshit better than a bloodhound. Her intelligent eyes peered at him through her dark-rims a moment longer before they flashed to the clock on the wall.

“Well, we are unfortunately out of time for today.” A modicum of defeat carried through on her voice. “Lance, I don’t-” She paused, choosing her words carefully to not sound judgemental. “Given your history... Struggles with self-esteem and your attachment to Keith, you know I have to voice my concern here.” 

Lance grinned with satisfaction. There it was.

“I’m going to recommend that you put a pin in exploring this path until we’ve had time to discuss it further.” She snapped his file shut to punctuate her point.

“Okay, doc. Sure thing.” Lance nodded in agreement and flashed a pleasant smile that belied his intent to play with fire. 

 

 

The drive home was slower than usual. And wetter. The roads were congested from the not unseasonal but unforecast rainstorm. Traffic was sluggish, which gave Lance time alone with his thoughts. Staring idly through his windshield, his gaze drifted through the grey skies, from the darkening patches of clouds overhead to the long line of cars inching along the roadway in front of him. His mind, however, took in little more detail than the flecks of rain speckling his windshield and the rhythmic sway of his wipers. Musing over Dr. Pollux’s caution held majority stake in his attention. 

There was a reason he hadn’t wanted to bring it up. Lance liked and respected Dr. Pollux; He wasn’t ready to ditch her yet. But it was discouraging how these shrinks, these so-called _professionals_ , always cautioned him against it, suggesting it was a byproduct of low self-esteem, detrimental to his relationship, a precarious path to go down, yada yada yada. Some even went so far as to call it unhealthy, something to be cured of. 

Lance knew better. He’d never felt healthier in his life and his self-esteem hadn’t been higher in years. And him and Keith? For all the ups and downs of their past, they’d never been stronger. Lance was the picture of confidence. Confident in himself. Confident in his relationship. And above all, confident that he knew what he wanted. And that was seeing Shiro fuck Keith.

He veered sharply into the next lane over as a space opened, snapping up the opportunity to gain an advantage in the gridlock. His left leg bounced anxiously beneath the dash as traffic quickly slowed to a crawl again. Talking about it had made him want it, and Lance had no intention of waiting until after his next session as Dr. Pollux had suggested.

He glanced at his phone sitting in the center console. Curiosity about what Shiro was up to that night was burning a hole in his brain. He quickly snatched up the device, but traffic started moving again before he’d managed to unlock the screen. Cursing under his breath, Lance dropped the phone into his lap and turned his attention back to the roads. 

As if beckoning him to chase temptation, the device buzzed as the pack of cars around him settled into a steady, albeit slow, speed. The screen flashed on with a message.

Keith: hey are you running late at work or something?

Lance: Had therapy 

Keith: oh right…

Lance: Traffic bad  
Lance: Weather

Lance typed hastily not wanting to take his eyes off the chaotic road for too long.

Keith: will you be home soon?

Lance: Omw  
Lance: Hey is Shiro free tonight by any chance?

Lance accepted the risk and an annoyed honk from the car behind him to get out what was on his mind.

Keith: oh...  
Keith: ummm...  
Keith: i’m pretty sure he’s busy

Lance’s mouth twitched into a frown. His foot pumped the brake as traffic came to a standstill again. Keith had been a bit evasive of the topic lately and Lance didn’t want to push his luck.

Lance: Want me to pick up dinner?

Keith: let’s order something  
Keith: chinese?

Lance: *thumbs up*  
Lance: An old-fashioned date night in *smiley*

Keith: something like that  
Keith: *winky face*

With thoughts of a cozy, cuddle-filled evening in with his favorite human being fueling his smile, Lance stepped on the gas, eager to be home. He encroached as much as he could on the bumper in front of him then sagged with a sigh, acquiescing to the blocked path. Bored and frustrated with traffic, his mind circled back to his therapy session.

Dr. Pollux’s warning wasn’t unexpected. Even Keith had been skeptical at first.

“You want me to _what?_ ” 

Lance recalled the shocked look on his boyfriend’s face when he’d first floated the idea. Keith had looked hurt, betrayed even. After convincing Keith that no, he wasn’t trying to push him away and explaining that it was just a hot thing that maybe they could try, the next words out of Keith’s mouth had been, “Lance, I don’t think you could handle that.”

Lance hadn’t argued. He hadn’t been totally sure himself at the time.

“But you’d do it, right? If I was okay with it?” He’d pressed.

Keith had shot him a look and quickly buttoned his lip in an outright refusal to answer what was clearly a loaded question.

Lance wasn’t oblivious though, nor was he blind. There’d always been chemistry between his boyfriend and the other man. Lance had picked up on it before he and Keith had even gotten together, and it was always there lingering in the back of his mind. Jealousy had gotten the best of him once before, and he’d nearly lost Keith over it. He wondered for the upteenth time if maybe that wasn’t the reason for all of this. A manifestation of his jealousy and the perpetual threat of Takashi Shirogane.

Lance snorted into his steering wheel. It sounded like something Dr. Pollux would say. He could practically hear her voice in his head:

_“In a strange way, Lance, by inviting this connection between your boyfriend and Shiro, you are actually facing your fear of losing Keith. Of losing him to this other man you feel you can’t compete with. You don't want him to, but you like playing with the notion that one day Keith’s going to take the bait.”_

_“So you think I'm baiting him then?”_ He argued with the Dr. Pollux in his head.

_“I think you should consider that you are playing a very dangerous game.”_

It was a dangerous game alright, but Lance couldn’t say that wasn’t an exciting part of it. The risk… The insidious curiosity... Just how hard could you throw a boomerang before it didn’t come back? That recklessness, it was enticing and Dr. Pollux’s disapproval only made it more so.

But counter to that, there was a safety in it too. After all, if he let them - if he let Keith be with Shiro - then there was less of a reason for Keith to ever leave him. At least this way he was still involved in the equation. Which only begged the question, was Keith only still with him because he'd let him fuck Shiro? No, that was a concern and instrument of torture he could inflict upon himself but not the reason he’d pursued the arrangement. 

So what was it then? Why had he gone down this path?

An outlet for jealousy? Striking a careful balance between facing and being held captive by his deepest fear? Crafting a counter-intuitive failsafe to make him feel secure in his relationship?

Lance laughed out loud while sitting in traffic at the ridiculous over-analysis that he could easily have wasted hundreds of dollars on in a therapist’s office and mentally bubbled in answer choice D: None of the above.

The crux of it - why he liked seeing Keith with Shiro - was far more simple: It just felt good. Well, not at first it didn’t. Seeing them together was nothing short of torture. But then, once he’d suffered through the anguish, wallowed in the humiliation, and seen the light at the end of the tunnel all but extinguish, there’d come a turning point. A moment when the grief folded in on itself, collapsing under its own weight and giving rise to revelry. And that transformative moment, that emotional rebirth... _That_ was what Lance lived for. When all the pain and mental agony reached a culmination point and then, by some inexplicable miracle that rivaled a religious experience, sublimated, transcended into something so very _good_. Lance’s eyes rolled shut as he was driving, affected by the memory of that feeling alone. He quickly shook his head, rousing himself from his thoughts in an effort to stay alert on the wet roads. Why exactly it gripped him so he couldn’t say, but there were plenty more therapy sessions to unpack that mystery.

Lance’s persistence had slowly warmed Keith up to the idea. And once Keith figured out that Lance's enthusiasm scaled with his own, he’d agreed to give it a go.

The first time- Well, forget the first time, but the _second_ time, it had been magical. A deep need Lance had never quite been able to put his finger on had finally been met. A lingering itch had at long last been scratched. A part of him he hadn’t realized he’d been holding tense was put at ease. For the first time, he’d felt whole.

Lance basked in the serenity of the memory and let it carry him through the rest of his frustrating commute home. 

 

 

 

Soaked-through shoes squelched up the garden path as Lance hurried into the house and out of the rainy weather. He dumped his dripping umbrella that had been blown inside out on the porch before shutting the door. The wind had really picked up towards the end of his drive. Sighing with relief, he pushed back his hood and ran his fingers through his hair, wicking away the residual water that had collected in his shaggy brown locks and leaving it stuck up at odd angles.

“Babe, I’m home,” he called out his usual greeting while he picked at the wet knots on his laces. Traffic and the long day had left him tired and his frazzled state was somewhat apparent by his voice. Distracted by the rainwater seeping into his socks, it took Lance longer than usual to notice that there was no response. 

“Keith?” He called again and stood to peel his arms from the damp sleeves of his empirically not-very-waterproof jacket. 

No answer again. Lance’s brow furrowed as he shook the rain from his coat. His clothes were mostly dry, save for a few inches near the hem of his jeans, the outer layer having taken the brunt of it after the umbrella had failed.

“Jeez… The least I could get is a welcome home,” he muttered as he hung his rain-soaked jacket on the hook next to Keith’s. Bad weather always left him feeling needy. 

Annoyed that he’d hurried home in anticipation of waiting, open arms only to be met by an apparently empty house, Lance took his frustration out on his sneakers. Pinning the heel in place with this toe, he yanked his foot out in a rather un-gentle manner and barely managed to not topple over in the process. Hopping on one soggy foot, he pulled the other shoe off by hand. Irritated and flicking the moisture from his now-wet fingers, he cast a disgruntled look at his sneakers and moved to place them on the shoe rack. And that was when he noticed it: Two pairs of shoes where there should have only been one. 

Lance’s sneakers hovered in mid-air while an adrenaline-laced pang sounded in the depths of his innards because occupying the spot he’d been about to place his shoes, right next to Keith’s red and cream high tops, stood a pair of black, well-weathered combat boots. Their placement was obvious, intentional. He was meant to see them.

“Oh… I see.” Understanding cracked in the form of an intrigued smile. So that’s where his boyfriend was. 

_I’m pretty sure he’s busy..._

Lance took back his annoyance as he recalled Keith’s text with a chuckle. 

Busy indeed.

Still fretting over where he should put his shoes, Lance was momentarily struck by how good the visiting pair of boots looked next to Keith’s high tops. Keith’s shoes belonged next to a badass pair of combats. More so than they belonged next to his ratty old sneakers that he was probably too old to be wearing. Humbled, he dropped his soaked footwear to the side of the rack where they were partially obscured from view.

Another nagging observation: Keith’s shoes and the combat boots were bone dry. It had been raining for the past few hours easily. Lance’s heart rate picked up. Just how long had Keith been entertaining company?

Excitement but also dread twisting in his belly, Lance pressed his fingertips into the bridge of his nose then dragged them across his eyebrows to his temples. Massaging slowly, he drew a breath, mentally preparing himself for what was to come. Jaw set, he let his eyes drift along the hardwood floor of the entryway and into the depths of the quiet house.

“Keith?” He called clearly, moving slowly and looking for a clue as to their whereabouts.

A sock lay not far into the entryway. Lance bent to pick it up and in doing so noticed its pair at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Dammit, Keith. You know I hate it when you leave your socks on the floor,” Lance chided and collected the second, folding them neatly one inside the other as if it were laundry day. Keith was a barefoot boy and only ever wore socks if they were to be quickly followed by shoes, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary to find his socks thoughtlessly cast aside near the front door. The shirt that Lance spied hanging part-way up the bannister, though, said that their placement was anything but careless. 

Lance didn’t bother containing his grin. So this was where they’d started. 

Ascending the stairs as he was clearly supposed to do, he collected the black t-shirt from the railing and held it out in front of him with both hands. A warm smile spread across his lips. It was one of Keith’s. Lance could tell by the width of the shoulders and the way it matched his smaller frame. His smile broadened as thoughts of his boyfriend stirred in his mind, turning his insides soft and evoking an equally sappy set of emotions. Containing his swoon, Lance folded the shirt in half twice and carefully tucked it under his arm with the socks before climbing further. 

He spotted two gloves dropped a few stairs apart next and giggled to himself at the trail of clothes left like breadcrumbs for the intrepid - or perhaps gullible - traveller. He retrieved them from the floor and turned one over in his hand. Those gloves… Keith rarely wore them outside the gym anymore, but he’d been known to dig them out of a drawer from time to time, for certain _occasions_. Whenever it was beneficial to have more garments to strip out of.

Surreptitiously, as though he was afraid someone might be watching, Lance slipped one of the gloves onto his hand and, making a fist, brought the fabric just beneath his nostrils to take in the scent of old leather. The rush of sensory information to his olfactory system sparked memories so fresh it was as if they’d happened yesterday, like the time Lance had cockily quipped that maybe Keith should keep the gloves on. In response to the suggestion, Keith had stood over him, half-naked, and defiantly removed the black coverings with his teeth. Lance still remembered the sassy way Keith’s eyebrow had twitched as he'd dropped them one after the other onto Lance’s bare chest. 

_“I have a better idea…”_ Keith had said while leaning down and crawling on top of him to gather the discarded gloves. He had then proceeded to stuff them into Lance’s mouth like a makeshift gag. _“How ‘bout you keep them safe for me instead?”_

Lance’s groin throbbed as he recalled the taste of leather, but his stomach hollowed too. Had someone else gotten that treatment? Jealous fires beginning to kindle, his mind pictured it - Keith standing over or maybe straddling a larger body sprawled on the stairs. His shirt flying off fast in the heat of the moment and the pace then slowing as it always did when he got to the gloves. The flash of a teasing smile. Teeth in leather. A removed glove drifting tantalizingly slowly down the cleft of a chest more muscular than his own...

Breath quickening and locked in the vision, Lance stood frozen staring at the glove on his hand. What Keith might have done... The not knowing... The way his imagination could run away with itself heightened his senses. Every drop of rain hitting against the windows was suddenly deafening.

Lance quickly yanked the glove from his hand, freeing himself from the fantastical concoctions of his own mind, and laid it with its pair by Keith’s socks. He smoothed the fabric on the pile of clothes folded over his forearm and, feeling the air thickening around him, pushed on. 

The full length of the landing came into view as he reached the top of the stairs. A few feet ahead lay a heap of dark fabric. Lance picked it up to find it was an athletic shirt, too big to be one of Keith’s, but meant to hang loose with wide-cut arms and a fierce gym logo stretched across the front of it. Lance pressed the wadded up fabric to his face and inhaled deeply, letting its musky scent fill his nostrils. It was a known fragrance and Lance’s response to it was Pavlovian. 

_Shiro._

Images flashed in his mind like lightning. A shock of white hair. A scar floating over a self-assured grin. The silhouette of Keith’s arched back and thrown-back head while a square jaw lingered at his neck. Already half-hard from his climb on the stairs, Lance shifted himself in his pants as his body responded further. He set his eyes on the empty stretch of hallway, a confusing mix of jealousy and desire clashing within him.

Shiro… The Garrison’s pride and joy. The local legend, himself. And the man that Lance was never quite sure if he wanted to be _with_ or wanted to _be_. Frankly, he’d never felt worthy of either. And just when he’d thought it couldn’t get any more complicated, a third variable had emerged: Wanting Shiro to be with somebody else. With Keith. To have Shiro physically take Keith from him.

Not that it was purely a physical thing. It was so much more than that. It was cerebral. Shiro was in his head, rattling his confidence, and triggering his most basic territorial instincts to fight for what was his, all while simultaneous putting him in his place without having done more than left his boots on the shoe rack. And Lance, with a wicked smile twisting on his lips and a fire burning in his loins, was eating up every minute of it.

“Keith, babe, you home?” Lance called from the far end of the landing, alerting them to his arrival.

Squinting to see in the dim hallway, the floorboards creaked beneath him as he moved. Something lay in the shadows to the side of the master bedroom door, and Lance could faintly make out an article of clothing hanging from its handle. He cocked his head at its placement.

Breath stalled in his throat upon realizing it. 

No… They couldn’t be. They wouldn’t _dare_...

They were in the bedroom. _His and Keith's_ bedroom. 

The hairs on the back of Lance’s neck bristled. He’d found them in the living room, they’d shamed him in the kitchen, and driven him to the brink of insanity in the bathroom, but never had they trespassed into the bedroom. Though it had never been explicitly off limits, the power move ached like a sock to the gut.

His footing faltered as he tried to move forward. Had they waited until he got home to… to start? Until they’d seen his car pull into the driveway? Right after Keith had sent that text? Had they been fucking all afternoon? Did they even remember that he was coming at all? Was this all just an excuse for them to finally-

Lance shut his eyes and reined in his thoughts, reminding himself that he had a role to play in all this. Shiro and Keith were playing their parts too.

Consciously, he moved his insecurities to simmer on the back burner, and the momentary paralysis passed. He found his legs again.

Ignoring the feverish indignation at their choice of location, Lance set down the pile of clothing he was carrying to address the final article on the floor: Keith’s too-goddamn-tight skinny jeans. Lance could only imagine the contortions required to get them off in the hallway. He lifted the rumpled pants by the waistband that usually hugged Keith’s slim hips.

Lance had a love-hate relationship with those pants. He could dizzily stare at Keith’s denim-clad behind for hours, loved smoothing his fingers over the textured denim to cup the ass beneath it, and took pride in slipping his hand into Keith’s back pocket when they were out together. So the world knew he was his. But getting Keith out of those jeans was another story. Lance hated how they stymied things in the heat of the moment, when his cock was aching to be inside Keith and he was forced to fight and wrestle the stiff fabric from Keith’s hide. Lance pulled at the stiff denim hanging before him, marveling at just how little give the pants had. When they were in a hurry, the pants rarely made it to Keith’s ankles, usually ending up just above the knee or however little state of undress was required to spread Keith’s legs just so. Secretly though, he relished the struggle it was to wrangle them down Keith’s thighs because even on his most hurried and voracious days, Lance liked to work for it.

And worked for it he had. Early in their relationship, one of the first times they’d been together, Keith had made fun of him for how he’d fumbled and tugged and utterly _failed_ at getting Keith’s jeans low enough to do any damage. When Lance had all but given in to embarrassment and even half-jokingly remarked, _‘Wow, okay… Your pants really don’t want me to have sex with you’_ , Keith had come to his rescue in a way only Keith could: By shoving him aside to ‘show him how it was done’. Stepping back, Keith had proceeded to skillfully, sensuously shimmy the constricting fabric down his legs like they were made of supple nylon. That act paired with the teasing, told-you-so smirk Keith had worn had touched Lance’s brain like an infectious prion, forever changing his biochemistry and rewiring _KEITH_ into his reward pathways. That was the moment Lance had fallen. Wholly and irrevocably. With arms spread wide like a cliff diver, he’d plunged into the deep, and welcoming the water’s wrath below, Lance had happily drowned.

There were a lot of moments when Lance had known Keith was the one. He couldn’t always remember which had happened first, but that time Keith had peeled himself out of his skinny jeans for him always stood out.

Deep longing pulled at Lance’s insides as he thumbed over the dark denim. It killed him to think that Keith might have removed them in similar fashion for someone else. Or perhaps, Shiro was just more nimble than he.

As he agonized over which scenario was worse, something caught Lance’s attention. More evidence of a heated, haphazard passage to the bedroom and the most damning yet. However, it wasn’t an article of clothing this time that robbed Lance of his breath but a picture on the wall just above where Keith’s hastily discarded pants had been.

A dark wooden frame displayed a photo of him and Keith at the Grand Canyon. Lance was pretending to teeter over the edge while Keith looked at the camera with feigned worry. It was a trip they’d taken shortly after reconciling their breakup, after deciding that they really didn’t want to lose each other, a trip that marked the official end of their separation. Lance had cracked a joke about wishing he had a ring while they’d overlooked the gorge as a way to test the waters and make sure he wasn’t getting too ahead of himself. But the softness in Keith’s eyes and the beaming grin he’d worn at the suggestion had cemented it for him. A month later he’d popped the question somewhere much less memorable than the vantage point they’d had on that trip.

And that picture that captured one of Lance’s most treasured memories, that marked the moment when he knew they were going to be okay, that they were going to make it… That picture now hung crooked on the wall.

Lance barely moved a muscle. His face remained impassive. By all outward appearances, he was unaffected, as unperturbed as a bored museum patron gazing upon the latest piece of trite artwork. But the lump forming in his throat was approaching gobstopper proportions. Visions of Shiro picking up Keith and pressing him against that wall played before Lance’s eyes in cinematic quality. And Keith, with no regard for their shared memory, carelessly knocking it askew while Shiro carried him into the bedroom with Keith’s legs wrapped around his hard body, urging him to hurry because Lance would be home soon. 

Though it deepened, Lance’s breathing remained steady. With his chin held high, he reached out and pointedly set the picture straight, restoring the cherished possession to its rightful position. He stepped back to admire his work, and in doing so, experienced a moment of pride for the life he and Keith had built together. 

Chest swelling with warmth and anxiety on the decline, Lance glanced to the door Shiro and Keith were behind. Somebody’s underwear was hanging on the handle and Lance had to pinch his lips together to stifle a laugh. 

“Too much, Keith,” he chuckled to himself at the cheesiness but awarded points for effort. He silently picked the maroon, pride-flag-banded boxer-briefs off the handle and added them neatly to the pile of clothes at his feet. 

A deep moan from behind the door wiped the smile off Lance’s face and stunted his rising confidence. Worried, but also intrigued, he pressed his ear to the door. Something in his groin twitched at the sound of shuffling clothes and the loosening of a belt - Shiro’s - interspersed with soft moans and other noises that originated from Keith’s throat. A low rumble, something spoken in an anxiety-inducingly low voice that he couldn’t quite hear. Lance’s ears strained. What was Keith saying to him? His boyfriend's hushed giggle triggered something primal in him. Ready to fight, ready to prove himself, ready to win Keith back by any means necessary, Lance’s hand touched down on the doorknob. 

But he hesitated a moment too long and soon pulled it back. He wasn’t ready yet. Lance parked himself on the floor instead, kicking one leg out straight and curling the other into his chest. He leaned back against the wooden door, listening to their foreplay between the raindrops tinning on the roof. Lance loved the rain in a bittersweet way. It always stirred up a heavy loneliness in him, a sense of longing for what exactly he couldn’t say. But it had a cleansing effect on his psyche too, never failing to leave him with a muted happiness, a peace of sorts. It centered him, reminded him of what really mattered.

A fond smile crept over Lance’s lips as he twisted the ring on his finger. The symbol of a promise and of an as-yet unwritten future between himself and Keith. Tangible proof of their commitment. Surely Shiro’s cock wasn’t enough to make Keith go back on that promise. 

Metallic plunks and drip-drops faded to the background as other sounds from inside the room pushed to the forefront of Lance’s hearing. He dragged his nails across the back of his neck and pinched his eyes shut with a grimace. He could hear them kissing. Lance didn’t like to see it, but they were allowed to when he wasn’t there to witness it. He groaned low in his throat and shifted to accommodate the growing need for more space in the front of his pants. Knowing it was happening hurt in the best possible way.

Another smacking sound invaded his ear canals and Lance realized with a rush of adrenaline that he’d been wrong. That wasn’t kissing he was hearing. At least not anymore. Biting his knuckle through a grin like a child that had learned a dirty secret he was too young to know, Lance relished the discovery.

A muffled _‘oh shit’_ from Shiro tightened Lance’s core and the subsequent _‘that’s good’_ had his fingers drifting below the waistband of his jeans. But he didn’t touch himself. Not yet. With a deprived groan, he hugged his knees to chest, forcing himself to wait.

And so Lance listened. To the long and low moan - the sound of Shiro stretching Keith’s body. To the creak of the bed as a second, heavier body moved onto it. To the sound of someone opening and rummaging through the nightstand where they kept the condoms. Breathing heavily and getting harder by the minute, Lance unbuttoned his pants to relieve some of the discomfort. Aching to be inside the room with them, he reached behind him and dragged his fingertips down the door, taking in the texture of the wood as his tongue rolled across a canine. He kept his breathing quiet lest he miss a hushed gasp, a whispered piece of dialogue, another creak of the bed.

Whispered words, _‘you ready?’_ , followed by a throaty groan from Keith and Lance’s resolve was at its limit. Clasping one hand over his mouth, his fingers brushed over the wet patch of precum bleeding through his underwear and danced along his length, threatening to give in at any moment and let himself be touched. 

“Do it. I want you inside me,” came the thready confirmation from Keith.

Lance couldn’t take it anymore. His hand was in his underwear fast, gripping himself and sharing the pleasure of the moment with Keith while simultaneously offsetting the jealousy storming within in him.

“Fuck… You’re big.”

Lance bit his lip and hastily pulled the waistband of his underwear down so his wrist had freedom to move. Sighing with relief, he relaxed into it.

_Finally..._

_Bliss..._

“Yes, ah- fuck, Shiro…” Keith moaned.

Lance’s toes curled and he nearly bit through his thumb nail. He could see it all clear as day as if he was in the room with them. 

_Torture…_

_Torture of the very best kind..._

“All the way- Fuck- Ah- you’re all the way inside me-”

The soft moan that escaped Lance trailed into a whimper. Suddenly, it was too much. It hurt too much. With another stifled whine, Lance nearly caught himself turning to regret, but then out of nowhere, the jealous torrents were replaced by a sudden clarity as if he’s broken through to the eye of the storm. A realization passed through him.

It was no secret that Keith had a mouth in the bedroom. Lance swore up and down that his boyfriend could make him come with words alone if they could ever keep their hands off each other long enough to test that theory. Keith was a practiced dirty talker, yes, but a narrator he was not. No, Lance grinned to himself. The narration, Keith’s play-by-play- That part was for him. Keith knew he was out there, listening, participating. And it was that tiniest detail that subverted the jealousy and misery into something more arousing than anything Lance had thought imaginable. All of this - his heart and loins were overtaken by heat - it was all for him.

“Fuck me, Shiro.”

“Yeah, Shiro, fuck him,” Lance breathed to himself. Eyes closed, his hand moved furiously.

“Harder...”

“Harder, Shiro. Harder,” Lance echoed, filling the hallway with his gasps.

His hand slowed, needing to ease off before he boiled over too soon. His eyelids flitted open and as his panting ceased, Lance suddenly liked what he was hearing less and less.

Silence.

All was quiet but for the rhythmic creak of the bed, the labored breath on the other side of the door, and the ever pounding rain.

With a growing sense of urgency, Lance waited for the next thread of dialogue, but it didn’t come. Were they so into each other that they’d forgotten he was out there? Had Shiro fucked him from the fringes of Keith's working memory, rendering him forgotten, unnecessary, redundant?

Panic on the rise, Lance was falling out of the moment. In desperation, he loudly cleared his throat.

“Yeah... Keep- keep fucking me. Ah- Keep fucking...” Keith’s narration picked back up again. Prompted though it may have been, Lance chose to buy into it. He groaned with relief and stroked himself again. 

But it wasn’t enough. He needed more.

Tucking himself back in his underwear and taking a moment to make himself look presentable, Lance collected the neatly folded pile of clothes and rose to his feet. Tentatively and with a racing heart, he laid his fingers on the door knob.

A moment frozen in time, Lance stood silent while wind and rain shook the house. (Or was that the headboard rattling against the walls?) Another pitched cry from Keith echoed into Lance’s groin and he took it as his cue to enter. He needed to see it. He needed to see them.

With all the innocence and fixation of a moth to the flame, Lance twisted the knob and pushed the door open.

  


  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter break is just to let you catch your breath. On to chapter two! ==>
> 
> Btw... I almost called the therapist Dr. Montgomery but that was just... too much. ><''


	2. Moth to the Flame

  


  


The scene that met Lance’s eyes as the door swung back on it hinges was an assault on his senses. He felt it first. A wave of heated air, thick and heavy with the smell of sweat and sex washed over him, seeping into his pores and invading his nostrils. The neurons between his eyes and his brain fired helplessly for a full three seconds before Lance managed to parse what he was seeing. He nearly dropped the stack of clothing along with his jaw when it finally registered. 

Motionless as a pillar of damned salt, Lance stood gaping in the doorway with his hand still on the knob. The expletives were ripped from his mouth before they could be formed into words as he gazed upon Keith and Shiro angled towards him in the center of the bed, fully entrenched in the thick of it. Keith, the love of his life, was face-down, ass-up with one arm stretched out before him clawing creases into sheets while Shiro, with one knee planted firmly in the mattress and the other bent up at ninety degrees, was fucking him from behind. A strong hand held Keith’s hips steady while a metal one was tangled in his hair and pressing his face into the bed. Keith’s comparatively smaller body rocked forward with a soft cry at each of Shiro’s powerful thrusts.

Lance barely dared breathe, mesmerized by what he was seeing. But if the pair noticed his presence they didn't show it, too absorbed in their act to pay his inconsequential arrival any mind.

Lance’s fingers slowly slipped off the door knob as he ventured further into the room. The first time he’d watched them fuck he’d nearly lost his mind. So much so that they’d had to stop. It had affected Lance for days and had taken him months to convince Keith to do it again. At the time, Lance didn’t know whether he wanted to cry or fight or prove himself somehow. Or if he should just give up entirely and forfeit Keith to the objectively better man... Even now, the same forces battled for dominance within him, but their intensity was dulled, balanced out by the throbbing in his groin and the need to dabble with how much he could withstand without shattering. 

How long he could take it...

Seeing Keith... 

...with Shiro. 

Drawn to them, as if a specter, Lance drifted towards the bed. Shiro kept a watchful eye on him as he approached. Once by the bedside, Shiro twisted Keith’s head towards their visitor, giving him tacit permission to interact but didn’t cease with his hips.

“Ah- Lance…” Keith, red-cheeked and parted lips gasping, wafted his hooded eyes over Lance’s form. He managed to meet Lance’s gaze momentarily before his eyes rolled shut again, carried away by the sensations being inflicted on his body. 

“Hey, babe…” Lance croaked on the edge of breathlessness. He set the pile of clothing down on the corner of the bed like an offering. “I thought we were gonna have date night.”

“He’s fucking me… He’s fucking me so good!” Keith cried like he hadn't heard him.

Lance knelt on the floor to be eye-level with him.

“I didn't think you'd have company. And in our bed too…”

Keith’s eyes cracked open and his body stiffened with worry that it had been too much. Shiro picked up on it too and slowed.

“Lance, you okay?” He huffed carefully from above them. “Color check?”

“Oh, yeah... We’re green,” Lance assured him without taking his eyes off Keith and, with intrigue twitching on his lips, reached out to stroke his boyfriend’s flushed face. 

Without missing a beat, Shiro pulled the body beneath him away before Lance’s outstretched fingers could connect. Shiro’s brow quirked with warning as he held Keith’s gasping body protectively, possessively. Lance retracted his hand and quietly bowed his head in deference. That’s right, he wasn’t allowed to touch.

Shiro raked his fingers through Keith’s hair with affection rumbling in his throat, and Keith’s vocal cords responded in kind. The smaller man’s lips parted with an audible intake of air as thick knuckles gripped his dark locks again. A groan suffocated against the sheets at the tension being applied to his scalp while Shiro picked up again with his hips. Falling back into his prior rhythm, Shiro went back to ignoring Lance, who lingered silently by the bed. 

Usually he hung back out of the way like a fly on the wall, either staying on the floor or taking residence in an available chair, but this time Lance wanted more. Affording them a wide berth and making it clear that he wasn’t trying to touch, Lance began to crawl onto the bed.

“Ah- Wh-What are you doing?” Keith whispered breaking character as much as his body would let him.

“I wanna be closer...” Lance breathed quietly then looked to Shiro for permission. Keith glanced back at the man too.

“Sure. I can work with it.” Shiro shrugged his blessing.

Situating himself as unobtrusively as possible, Lance lay his long body flat on the bed and propped his shoulders up with a mound of pillows at the head of it. Shiro pulled Keith up onto all fours and shifted their position so Keith’s knees straddled Lance’s legs. It was a mark of his experience that he maneuvered the both of them without ever making contact with Lance. Keith’s hands pressed into the mattress on either side of Lance’s torso. Though he easily could have, he didn’t touch Lance or even acknowledge in any way that he was there. Lance stayed still. Restrained by the forcefield around Keith that he wasn’t allowed to penetrate and the other incontestable presence above him, his arms lay pinned to his sides. 

As if there’d been no interruption, Shiro soon had Keith moaning again, and Lance had a dizzying upshot view of it. Of Shiro towering over them, ruling Keith with his hips. 

“You look beautiful, babe,” Lance whispered from beneath him.

“Shit, Shiro...” Keith’s head rolled forward with a whimper and no further indication that he’d heard compliment. Lance’s breath grew shallow watching Keith’s shoulders pinch together, his elbows threatening to buckle more and more with each voiced pant. Lance’s cock throbbed at the sight, pressing and grazing against the inside of his slim-fit jeans, desperate for even the tiniest shred of friction. Keith gasped suddenly - making Lance flinch and his cock jump painfully against its constriction - as his head was pulled back sharply by the fist tangled in his hair. 

“Oh my god…” The whisper escaped Lance and he both regretted and thanked himself for telling Shiro that Keith liked having his hair pulled. With lips parted so quickened breaths could slide between them and anticipation building in the lower regions of his stomach, Lance’s eyes locked on Keith with sniper-like focus. He was a vision. Lance drank in the rapid heaves of his ribcage, savored the strong but trembling arms fighting to hold their own weight, and committed to memory the agonized, affected expression twisting on Keith’s face. Without being fully aware of what he was doing, Lance’s hand drifted inwards across his own thigh. 

The sound of a zipper was unmistakable and Lance cringed into the pillows as two pairs of eyes landed on him. The amused smirk that flashed on Keith’s lips left Lance’s cheeks burning. He quickly looked away.

“Is this hot for you?” Keith teased between breaths. “Seeing him _fuck_ me like this?” 

“No,” Lance said, keeping his eyes tuned to the wall. He began to stroke himself freely. “I hate it.”

“Liar...” Keith rolled the accusation into a breathy moan that drew Lance’s eyes back to him just in time to see him pushing back into Shiro. “Look at you… You can’t take your eyes off it.”

A choked-off sound of distress came from Lance at the dig, but his hand remained swift. The volume of Keith’s cries increased as Shiro escalated the intensity. Keith dug his hands into the mattress to brace himself, tensed arms showing off a piece of sinewy tricep that held his body in place while Shiro did the rest of the work. His mouth hung open and his body jerked as Shiro’s hips slapped into him. Lidded eyes fell on Lance.

“He’s fucking me, Lance…” Keith taunted. “Do you see? Do you see how he’s- oh- oh fuck-” His voice deepened and there was momentary panic in his eyes. Lance knew it as Keith’s tell. He was going to come. Teeth sank into Lance's lower lip and he stroked himself like a mad mad, frantically trying to catch up.

Keith strangled a cry - the final build-up - and Lance’s vision tunneled as Keith’s back arched in the way he knew by heart. But then, out of nowhere, Shiro stopped. With hands fixed fast to Keith’s hips, Shiro froze their bodies together. Keith sucked in a breath and whimpered at the stunted moment.

A wicked smile curled on Shiro’s lip as Keith tried to push and writhe against him.

“Shiro, what...” Keith glanced over his shoulder. “Hey, come on...” Lance watched Keith’s face contort with want and nearly forgot how to breathe. A panting, gasping mess, his boyfriend was right on the edge. 

“Shiro, please…” The rawness of Keith’s voice was a blessing Lance hadn’t known he’d needed.

“You want him, huh, babe?” Lance said with the tiniest smirk. Finally, he wasn’t the only one being teased. 

“Fuck yes, I want him! Shiro, just-” He tried to squirm again, but Shiro’s hands held firm. Keith growled in frustration. His eyes searched desperately until they fell on Lance.

“Lance…” The soothing way Keith voiced his name was unexpected and music to Lance’s ears. 

“Yeah, babe?” He answered reflexively. He’d do anything for that voice. 

“Tell him to do it. Tell him to make me come.”

Lance’s mouth went dry at the request. His eyes widened fearfully. It was one thing to passively pay witness to it, but to actively tell Shiro to...

“Keith, I-” There was that lump again, threatening to choke him. Lance tried to speak again but the conflict in him rendered him mute.

“Come on, baby…” Keith crooned. “You want me to feel good, right?” 

“Y-You know I do, but-”

“Then tell him…” 

Lance flinched suddenly. A hand was on his thigh, just above the knee. Keith’s hand. Lance looked at it in shock and then dragged his eyes to the sweet, pleading smile that had re-appeared on Keith’s face. 

“Tell him…”

Keith fingers squeezed. 

“To make me…” 

He leaned in so close that Lance swore Keith was going to kiss him. 

“Come,” he breathed against Lance’s lips. 

The way Keith’s thumb was massaging his touch-starved body and the kiss of Keith’s breath left Lance feeling drunk. He didn’t know what to do. They were in uncharted territory. He may not be allowed to touch, but they’d never set any rules about Keith doing it. And Keith, it seemed, was aware of this too. He glanced defiantly at Shiro as if to ask him what he was going to do about it.

A warning in the form of a metal fist landed on the bed next to the hand on Lance’s thigh. Lance felt the mattress depress with the added weight. Shiro curled forward over Keith and gripped the smaller man’s jaw between his thumb and forefinger. Beginning to gently rock his hips again, he turned Keith’s face - and attention - back to himself. Watching Keith’s affected features with amusement, Shiro retracted himself completely and then, with a devious twitch of his lip, fed Keith his full length agonizingly slowly. Keith’s mouth dropped open with a starved moan as Shiro filled him. Air hissed between teeth when their hips finally bumped together, and Shiro had Keith melting into a hungry groan as he repeated the motion.

“Shiro…” Keith’s voice shook. “Don’t stop. Please...” His mouth gasped open and Lance’s breath stuttered as Shiro’s index finger slipped into it, pressing into the flat of his tongue. Keith’s lips closed around the digit. Holding Shiro’s gaze, he hollowed his cheeks and sucked with an obscene moan.

Looking for the first time affected, Shiro didn’t take his eyes off Keith and so didn’t notice that Keith’s hand was steadily sliding up Lance’s thigh. But Lance saw - and felt - what was happening. His boyfriend was distracting Shiro for him. Elated didn’t begin to describe how he felt about the gesture. Keith hadn’t forgotten him. Not by a long shot. Overcome with emotion, Lance fought to keep his excited breathing quiet as Keith’s hand got steadily closer to the peeled back opening of his pants. He shifted slightly to improve the angle and glanced up just in time to see a totally engrossed Shiro drag his index finger across Keith’s fleshy bottom lip. All the while, Keith’s hand inched closer, reaching for him. Like a virgin in disbelief of his luck, Lance braced for it. Keith was going to touch him.

A metal hand clamped around Keith’s wrist when he was mere centimeters from Lance’s waiting flesh. 

“That is not happening,” Shiro said flatly. Lance whimpered helplessly as Keith’s hand was pulled away and twisted behind his back. 

“Finish fucking me, then!” Keith demanded then shot Lance a treacherous look that had his insides boiling and his cock throbbing more than ever. He’d been used like a pawn.

Shiro’s other hand took Keith’s remaining wrist and soon both of Keith’s arms were pulled behind him. Keith's limbs ceded to Shiro, letting the man direct his body as he saw fit. Arms straight and held hanging by the wrists, Keith’s torso was suspended in mid-air with his back arching just so. He let his head fall forward with a sigh as Shiro finally gave him what he wanted.

“Yes, Shiro… Like that...” He rolled his lips together with a satisfied groan and angled his chin up to peer at Lance through the dark tufts of hair falling over his face. “Nobody ah- Nobody fucks me like you.” The teasing smirk Keith fired his way stung.

 _Keith…_ Lance mouthed his boyfriend’s name but no sound came out. The unanswered anticipation of Keith’s touch still searing, Lance’s hand shifted to the aching, untouched cock twitching against his abdomen. His eyes fluttered shut and the softest _‘fuck’_ floated from his lips as he allowed himself the comfort of his own hand.

Shiro eased up on Keith’s wrists all of a sudden, sending the smaller man falling forward with a startled gasp. Lance jolted with surprise too just as Shiro caught him again. Still hanging by the wrists, Keith’s head now hovered just inches above from the cock in Lance’s hand, his mouth so close that his heated pants were ghosting over the head of it. 

_So... close…_ Lance groaned with want and writhed helplessly against the sheets. His stomach pulled tight while he resisted the urge to thrust his hips forward and bury himself in that wet heat. Keith’s dark eyes flashed up at him and Lance’s eyes widened as something was communicated to him in near-telepathic manner. Lance shifted subtly down the bed, while Keith - conspiring with him - craned his neck and, in the single most lewd gesture Lance had ever witnessed, opened his mouth and reached with his tongue for Lance’s cock. Breathless excitement burning him alive, anticipation peaking and threatening to rip his sanity apart at the seams, Lance’s vision went fuzzy at the edges. The world began and ended with the cock radiating heat in his hand and Keith's open mouth. With a tilt of his wrist, Lance bobbed the head of it against Keith’s tongue. Electricity ripped through his core and shot down his limbs at the familiar warmth and wetness, and Lance nearly came from the split-second of contact they were afforded before Shiro reined Keith in by the wrists. 

“Oh no you don’t.” An arm snaked around Keith, pulling him closer to the body it was attached to and away from Lance. Lance’s feet beat against the bed in frustration. 

Shiro pulled the hair back from Keith’s ear to rasp into it, “I didn’t say you could touch him.” 

Keith flinched at the sharp nip Shiro left on his neck as punishment, but a trail of warm, open-mouthed kisses soothed the bite after. Keith melted into them with soft moans and twisted his head to the man kissing along his jaw.

“Shiro...” Keith whispered, brushing his fingers over the man’s cheek. His eyes turned soft in a way that Lance thought was reserved only for him.

 _No… Don’t…_ Lance silently pleaded while another part of him dared them to be so bold. His fingers grasped at the sheets, pulling the fitted covering from the mattress when Shiro lips met Keith’s. Watching Shiro’s tongue slip into Keith’s mouth had him seeing red, but Lance channeled it into friction around his cock. Hackles already on the rise, they shot up completely when Keith’s hand clasped behind Shiro’s neck and he willingly kissed him back.

 _What??_

His brain cried.

 _Hey..._

Falling. Lance was falling. Every fiber of his being was screaming, but Lance didn’t utter a word as his eyes peeled wide, watching it happen. This was it. This was the time Keith didn’t come back to him.

Straddling the line between anguish and ecstacy, Lance's only lifeline was the hand moving fast between his legs. Keith’s mouth pulled at Shiro’s bottom lip while his eyes passed lazily over the third man in the room. Shiro’s did the same as he nuzzled Keith’s cheek. 

“Fuck,” Lance growled, lust and righteous indignation overtaking the ache of rejection. They were taunting him, rubbing it in his face.

Keith’s eyes fell shut and he leaned his head against Shiro’s in a way only a lover would do.

“Make me come, Shiro… Show him what you do to me.” 

Keith barely had time to flash a teasing smile in Lance’s direction before Shiro tipped him forward again. Keith’s hands landed on the pillows, framing Lance’s face and giving them a second of hurried eye contact before Shiro pushed Keith down further, pinning him against Lance’s chest. This time, Shiro fucked Keith without abandon.

Wide-eyed and unprepared for the rush of skin-to-skin contact, Lance lay there, no more useful than the mattress beneath him. The full force of Shiro’s movements and every vibration of Keith’s moans echoed through him. Rules be damned, he couldn’t stop himself. His hands were in Keith’s hair, running along his back, and pulling his boyfriend closer while Keith moaned for the other man. 

“I’m close,” came Keith’s hurried whisper. “Shiro- Shiro, please-”

Drunk on sensory information, Lance’s eyes lost focus as they drifted to the ceiling. He didn’t need vision. All the data he required to know exactly how Shiro was undoing Keith was kinetically transferred to him through the shaking body on top of him and the puddle of drool pooling by his collarbone from Keith’s gasping mouth.

Blinking back tears, Lance wrapped his arms around Keith’s trembling form and whispered, “God, I love you, Keith,” into his hair, for what Lance feared might be the last time.

And one final time, Shiro took Keith from him. Pulled away by the hair, Keith moved like a willing ragdoll while Lance’s arms fell helpless and empty to the mattress. He lay there, passive and motionless while Shiro’s hand reached between Keith’s legs. Keith’s hand followed, moving with him, guiding Shiro’s. They were doing it together.

“Shiro, I’m gonna- hnng-” Keith bit his lip and tried to hold on as long as he could. Chest heaving, his pained eyes met Lance’s. 

Lance’s hand was already back on his cock, watching Keith’s body approach the edge was driving him there too. 

“Oh my god, Keith..." Lance breathed, not taking his eyes off the man above him. He frantically pulled up his shirt in preparation. 

“He’s gonna make me come. Lance, h-he’s gonna- Fuck… Fuck, I’m-” There was a choked sound and something hit Lance in the leg with enough force for him to feel it through his pants. Heaving and moaning through it, Shiro was making Keith come and it had Lance at the edge.

“Shit... Oh shit, Keith…” Lance gasped, eyes fixed and hand flying fast. 

With a merciful smirk, Shiro released Keith’s hair early, letting him fall forward and capture Lance’s lips with all the chaos of an emergency landing. A thready moan was poured into Lance’s waiting mouth, and Lance, with a rush that shot from his lips to his groin and electrified his heart on the way, came on the spot. Teeth clacked and tongues darted together in a climactic frenzy, and finally, just once, it was Lance’s name that Keith gasped.

Tired arms gave out a moment later and Keith’s upper body collapsed against Lance with an exhausted whimper. Shuddering through the tail-end of orgasm, Lance flung his arms around the spent body on top of him and held Keith, yes, his Keith, close while Shiro took his turn.

Breath and body straining, Shiro fucked Keith fast. Lance felt it transfer through his still-sensitive boyfriend who moaned softly in his arms. 

“You’re almost done, babe,” Lance whispered to him and brushed Keith’s hair back to softly kiss his sweat-dampened forehead. Keith had done a lot for him that day.

Shiro’s respirations heightened and cutting a heave short, he carefully pulled out of Keith. There was the snapping sound of a condom being hastily removed followed by the _shluk shluk shluk_ of a hand moving fast on hardened flesh, and a moment later, hot, white ribbons whipped across Keith’s back, flanked by Shiro’s breathy grunts. Keith arched in Lance’s arms, clinging to him tightly while Shiro painted his skin. Finished and with a conclusive heave to mark it, Shiro pushed the white forelock back from his forehead and sat back on his heels, panting.

Lance dragged his fingers through the mess dripping down Keith’s back with a satisfied hum rumbling in his throat. He brought his hand to the side of Keith’s shoulder to look at the evidence and pulled his fingers apart to see how far the strings would stretch. Dopey-eyed and dazed, Keith gazed at up him from his chest. A lazy smile cracked over Keith’s face when Lance’s eyes fell on him and he snuggled closer. Lance’s face turned as soft as his insides as he thanked his lucky stars. Keith, his faithful boomerang, had come back to him after all.

With an exhausted heave, Lance’s body finally went limp. His eyes drifted aimlessly, idly taking in details of the room as he sank into the pillows. Keith, tired and nestled in the crook of his neck. Shiro, sitting at the end of the bed, broad back and shoulders glistening with sweat. The fogged-over windows that had reacted as the temperature in the room had climbed. And the rain. Lance could hear the rain again. A stillness fell over the room, and Lance shut his eyes to be a part of it. With Keith in his arms and the rain washing away layers of accumulated filth and grime outside, Lance was at peace, renewed. His world was whole again.

“You alright there, Lance?” A touch short of breath, Shiro’s voice interrupted the silence. Lance felt the mattress dip next to him and when he opened his eyes, Shiro was sitting next to his and Keith’s intertwined bodies. 

“Holy shit, Shiro... I am _great_.” Lance cracked a giddy sideways grin. “Thanks for… that.” He turned shy all of a sudden. 

“Anytime,” Shiro chuckled and ruffled Lance’s hair, leaving it a mess.

“Yeah, Shiro. Thanks.” Keith lifted his heavy head from Lance’s neck to mumble his appreciation before letting it drop back in place again.

“Anytime for you, too,” Shiro smirked and gave Keith’s ass a reverberating slap. Keith flinched and then snickered sleepily while Shiro reached for the wet wipes on the nightstand.

“Oh, I got it.” Lance quickly shifted out from underneath Keith and took the container from him. It was part of it for him, cleaning the other man - cleaning Shiro - off Keith.

Used to the routine, Keith waited on his stomach while Lance diligently performed his duty. Tracing the path of the damp wipes with his fingers, Lance basked in the feel of Keith’s clean, unadulterated skin. Once satisfied with his work, he bent forward to kiss the spotless flesh and pressed his forehead against the small of Keith’s back with a soft moan.

Keith carefully turned over in place beneath Lance and propped himself up on one elbow. “You okay? It wasn’t too much this time?” He asked, brushing the swath of brown hair in his lap.

“Nah. Never been better in my life.” Lance smiled up at him. “I gotta say though, in the bedroom…” Lance pulled himself upright and blew an impressed breath between his lips. “Nice touch. And pretty ballsy too. You guys are getting eerily good at this.” He eyed them suspiciously.

Shiro smirked from where he perched on the edge of the bed. “Well, the bedroom was this one’s idea.” He nudged Keith with his elbow.

“Guilty,” Keith admitted shyly, though he looked rather pleased with himself. 

Lance’s eyes turned soft and he tilted his head at Keith

“You always did know how to get under my skin.” He brushed a lock of dark hair back from Keith’s face then pulled their lips together in a slow, gratitude-laced kiss.

“I think I’ll leave you guys to it,” Shiro said, sensing that his job there was done. He retrieved his pants from the floor then picked his shirt out of the stack of clothing Lance had left on the bed.

“You sure you don’t wanna stay for dinner? We were gonna order in,” Lance offered, watching Shiro step into his pants while still draped over Keith’s shoulders.

“Yeah, we probably owe you after, um… everything you do for us,” Keith added with another shy smile.

“Another time,” Shiro politely declined their offer. “I have my own thing to get home to.” He added with a wink and pulled his shirt over his head.

“Lance, it’s been an honor and a privilege.” Shiro leaned across the bed to kiss him on the cheek. “And Keith...” Shiro turned to the other man with tenderness in his eyes. “Your shoulders okay?” He asked, rubbing the joints that had beared the brunt of the roughness.

“You didn't hurt me. I'm hard to break,” Keith assured him. 

Shiro laughed and gently thumbed Keith's chin. “Until next time then,” he said and planted a lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth.

Lance let them carry on with their blatant flirting, but his mind took note of the way Keith leaned into Shiro’s kiss, how his hand found and then squeezed Shiro’s fingers, and the flirty smiles they exchanged just before Shiro took his leave. The jealous fires in him never fully extinguished.

“So Shiro’s pretty great, huh?” Lance both teased and tested, resting his chin on Keith’s shoulder from behind and gazing sideways at the man he loved with all his heart.

“Eh… He’s alright,” Keith shrugged, nonchalant.

Lance snickered and hugged Keith’s middle. It was sweet of him to downplay it.

“Hey, you’re still wearing your ring.” Lance’s fingertips traced down Keith’s arm and over his wrist to the metal band on Keith’s finger, surprised that he hadn’t noticed it earlier.

“Of course I am. I never take this off.” Keith cradled it close to his chest and looked mildly offended at the suggestion.

“Heh... I guess that means you still love me, huh?”

Keith smiled with amusement and turned to his boyfriend to tease his fingers through his messy hair. Without warning, Keith’s palms clamped against either side of Lance's face, mushing his cheeks together. 

“So much that I just took another guy’s dick for you,” he declared with a sassy quirk of his lip. Lance still asked him that. Every time.

“Pfff. You say that like you don’t enjoy it. Wait- You enjoy it, right?” Lance looked worried all of a sudden.

“Well, I mean…” Keith turned away to hide his smirk rather than admit it outright.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Lance snorted and playfully tickled his sides.

“Hey!” Keith laughed and grasped the offending hands while trying to squirm away. “Look, I’m happy to keep fucking him if that’s what you want me to do. That’s all I’m saying.” Keith threw his hands up as if he could care less but the cheeky grin he failed to hide kept the quelled coals inside Lance at a healthy simmer.

With a heartfelt sigh, Lance leaned his head against Keith’s collarbone to hide the expression on his face. He was grinning like an idiot. He wrapped his arms around Keith and together they swayed until the finally toppled over horizontally onto the bed with a _fwump_. Lance pulled the blanket over himself and Keith’s naked body while they shifted to get comfortable. Once situated in their shared cocoon, Lance lay his head on the pillow next to Keith’s, just far enough apart that they didn’t have to go cross-eyed while looking at each other. Tired from the exertion, Keith’s heavy lids slowly fell shut.

“Oh, hey... It's raining,” Keith remarked. His eyebrows pinched together and his lips parted softly as he focused on the sounds coming from the roof.

Lance’s face pained at how utterly besotted he was. He didn’t think it was possible to love a human being more without imploding.

“Hey, Keith...” Lance said softly as he scooted closer and delicately interlaced their fingers. “I’m home.”

Soft lips nuzzled his cheek a moment later. 

“Welcome home, baby,” Keith whispered sleepily and wrapped him in his arms. Lance pulled him closer and joined him in listening to the rain.

 

 

Downstairs, a pair of combat boots were just finished being laced up. Their owner retrieved a pair of old, grey sneakers from the corner and placed them neatly in the center of the shoe rack next to another pair of well-loved red and cream high tops. The front door was silently cracked open and, with a fond smile and final reverent nod to the side-by-side pair, the boots and the man in them headed out into the stormy, wet weather.

  


  


**Author's Note:**

>  **Thank you for reading!! Sound off in the comments! I want to hear what you have to say!**  
>   
> 
> As I said before, this is probably the most polished piece of writing I've ever put out, but I am very nervous about how it will be received... I very much enjoyed working on it though and thank you to the wonderful artists who created art for this fic and to everyone who put the Voltron Kink Bang together!!  
>  
> 
>  **Art**  
> [ That one extremely lewd bit ](https://enjayas.tumblr.com/post/173997096414/gravitydoll-boomerang-first-time-participating) by Gravitydoll! Check out their stuff, it's incredible!
> 
> [The ring and The Kiss](https://enjayas.tumblr.com/post/173994137094/downthesketchdumpvoid-its-finally-time-to-get) by Sokuter. Also incredible artwork. Thanks so much for seeing this band through with me!
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading! Find me on Twitter @enjayas_writes or Tumblr @enjayas.
> 
>  


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